


The Invite

by this_wayward_life



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Blink and you miss it Bucky/Thor, Breaking Up & Making Up, Broken Engagement, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Emotional Infidelity, Eventual Happy Ending, Gay Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Sam Wilson, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Steve's a bit of an idiot, Teacher Bucky Barnes, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25985368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_wayward_life/pseuds/this_wayward_life
Summary: Bucky's life is going fine. Really. He's got a new arm, he loves his job, and his friends are some of the best he's ever had. So he should have seen it coming when Steve Rogers barrels back into his life, a ring on his finger and asking Bucky to be there when he marries Peggy Carter.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Riley/Sam Wilson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 170
Collections: Stucky Reverse Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to the 2020 Stucky Reverse Bang, and I am so excited to share this with you guys. I've been working on this since like April, and I'm pretty proud of it (it's also why I haven't been posting lately).

Bucky is vaguely aware of people passing him as he stands next to his mailbox. Little old Mrs Flannagan from apartment 103 totters past on her way to her five o'clock bingo session, chirping hello as she goes. Bucky can barely look up from the letter to smile back at her.

_To James Barnes, from Steven Rogers._

A particularly loud car horn has Bucky jerking out of his terror-ridden stupor, and he manages to shakily tuck the letter into his jacket pocket along with the envelope from the bank and a flyer from a local animal's rights group. His clothes are stained with various paints and crayons from work - Tuesdays are first-grader days, and he always comes home with his clothes inevitably ruined - and he tries to not wipe his suddenly sweaty palm on his jeans in fear of getting his hands dirty. 

The stairs creak under his shoes as Bucky hurries up the three flights to his apartment, his hands shaking as he fumbles with his keys and somehow manages to open the door without putting his metal fist through it. The envelope is burning a hole through his jacket, so he throws the stack onto the coffee table as he passes. The room is a little bit blurry around the corners, and Bucky suddenly has to sit down very abruptly, his head spinning and his breath coming short. The arm is whirring and creaking like it's a living being, and Bucky holds it tight to his side to keep it from doing any damage. That goddamned letter is just sitting in front of him, the familiar chicken scratch burning a hole through Bucky's brain.

Deciding that he'd better get it over with instead of sitting and stewing, Bucky reaches for the letter with shaky hands and slides his metal thumb through the envelope's slip, the paper ripping softly. 

Bucky was expecting a letter. A postcard. Maybe even a certificate of some kind. He certainly wasn't expecting his fingers to graze thick, expensive paper, gold cursive curling across the card.

_You are cordially invited to the wedding of Steven Grant Rogers and Margaret Elizabeth Carter at the Wythe Hotel in Williamsburg, Brooklyn on the 31st May 2020._

It takes a second for the realisation to sink in.

Then Bucky bursts into tears.

\------

Bucky's always been a crier. He cried when he left the army, he cried when Becca had her daughter, he cried when Tony had attached his arm, he cried that one time Riley complimented his hair. True, he was pretty wasted for that last one, but the truth still stood.

So, when Bucky learns that his ex-boyfriend, ex-best friend, ex-everything, has decided to contact him after ten years of nothing, and it's for his _wedding_? Yeah, he's going to cry.

He's still crying half an hour later, swaddled in a blanket like a newborn and miserably eating Ben and Jerry's as Sam reads over the invitation.

"And this is Steve."

"Yes," Bucky says miserably.

"The Steve you've been in love with since you were thirteen."

"Yes."

"Who left you when you were 24."

Instead of answering, Bucky just shoves another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. Sam sighs, tossing the envelope back onto the coffee table as he sits. "You're going to go, right?"

Bucky swallowed his mouthful of ice cream mournfully. "I don't know."

"He was your best friend," Sam reminds him gently. 

"Sam, he's marrying _Peggy Carter_."

"I don't know who that is."

"She worked with Steve for a little while we were still dating. He always looked at her like she was the goddamned sun." Bucky wipes at his eyes again. "And I was always scared that he'd leave me for her. And now I find out he's marrying her? I don't know if I can watch that."

"You think he was seeing you both at the same time."

Bucky shrugs, avoiding Sam's eyes. That's a yes. Sam sighs again. "Are you saying that because of your own insecurities, or because you actually think Steve would cheat on you?"

"You're not my therapist," Bucky snaps, setting down the ice cream. "I didn't think Steve would leave me, either. I didn't know him as well as I thought I did." Sam's quiet, but he wraps an arm around Bucky's shoulders and pulls him into a hug. Bucky, because he's secretly a house cat, snuggles up and buries his face in Sam's chest.

"I don't want to influence your decision," Sam finally says. "If you don't wanna go, you don't have to. But you've told me how close you two used to be, even when you weren't together. He obviously wants you there. And who knows; you might get closure."

"I have closure," Bucky mumbles.

"When was the last time you dated someone for more than three months, huh?" Sam asks without heat. "Come on, Barnes, I know you. You've always wanted a steady relationship, a family, a husband. Ever since I met you, you've never tried to get that."

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, the lump in his throat growing. "I'm over him."

"I'm not saying you're not. But it might do you some good to get closure."

After a couple of minutes, Bucky shuffles up into a sitting position. He probably looks like a complete mess - his hair's sticking up like a bird made its nest in it, his face is probably looking like he's been stung by a swarm of bees, and there are ice cream stains all over his shirt. In comparison, with his jeans and button-up, Sam looks very put-together, minus the large wet patch on his chest.

"If I do go," Bucky croaks out. "And I'm not saying I will. But if I do, will you come with me?"

Sam's eyes widen. "You'd want that?"

"You don't have to come," Bucky says quickly. "But it would be nice to have a familiar face."

"No, I'll definitely come. I just... I didn't know if you'd want me to meet Steve. He's important to you."

Bucky bumps Sam's shoulder. "You're my best friend, idiot. I love you, and if anyone isn't good enough to meet someone, it's Steve and his bullshit."

Sam barks out a laugh. "Alright, fine. But you're gonna be the one to tell Riley you're kidnapping me and taking me to Brooklyn."

\------

The weeks leading up to the wedding have Bucky almost as on edge as he was when he came back from Afghanistan. He and Sam had decided, after much consideration and some help from Riley who, unlike them, was not a complete disaster, that they would be going up to Brooklyn two weeks early as a little holiday (Sam's words). When Bucky had RSVP'd, he'd received an email from an Angela Martinelli, who'd introduced herself as the wedding planner, and had told Bucky that all accommodation for guests travelling to Brooklyn had been paid for by the Carters. Apparently, hosting over a hundred people in a five-star hotel was no problem for the Carters. The thought made Bucky feel slightly sick.

"I just don't get it," Bucky rants, gesticulating so wildly the cocktail he's holding in his right hand sloshes over. He may be slightly drunk. "He's marrying Peggy Carter. _Peggy Carter!_ She's the complete opposite of him! There is no way their marriage will work out!"

"Yeah! She's not good enough for him!" Tony yells, slurring his words. He's a lot more drunk than Bucky.

"It's not that at _all_ , Stark," Bucky presses. "She's _amazing_. She's real smart, her family's loaded, she's beautiful, but there is no way she can give Stevie what he needs."

"What do you mean?" Riley asks curiously. He's the only one who isn't drunk - Sam's half asleep on his shoulder. 

"I mean, Stevie's real tactile, y'know?" Bucky slurs, taking a large slurp of his cocktail. It was a nice colour. "He needs affection, like, constantly. It's like living with a Golden Retriever. Carter doesn't have the time or the patience to deal with that! She needs someone low-maintenance, who doesn't show their affection through cuddles and kisses and fuckin' awesome sex and a huge dick."

"Big dick Rogers!" Tony shouts, making quite a few people turn and glare.

"But I don't know how the hell she could turn down a Steve hug," Bucky continues, his words jumbling together. "Stevie gives the best hugs. He's so big, y'know? He just kinda envelopes ya, an' he's so soft an' warm, and he kisses like a champ, and..." Bucky sniffs, and Riley gives him a sympathetic look.

"Maybe it's time to go home," he says. "I gotta get this idiot to bed, and Barnes, you have classes to plan. Stark, you want a lift?"

"I'm good, I'm good." Tony waves him off and signals the bartender again. "Give me your best whiskey, kind sir." 

"That's our cue," Riley mutters, taking the breaks off his wheelchair. "Come on, Barnes, I need you to help carry my husband. Let's get you home."

Bucky wipes at his eyes, drains his glass, and follows Riley out of the bar.

The next day Bucky wakes up on Sam and Riley's couch with a pounding headache and a sympathetic Riley making eggs and bacon in the kitchen.

It's only a week after that Sam's pulling up to Bucky's apartment in his shitty little VW bug at one in the afternoon on Friday, a Tupperware of Riley's special hotpot and a thermos of coffee each in the centre console. Bucky throws his suitcase in the trunk and collapses into the passenger seat, instantly grabbing one of the thermoses and bringing it to his lips.

"Your husband is a gem," Bucky groans at the taste of sweet coffee on his tongue. "You're so lucky you managed to snatch him up before I met him."

"My husband would never settle for you," Sam sniffs, flicking on the indicator and pulling out into the street. 

"You say that, but what you don't know is that I have an ass to die for."

"Have you seen _my_ ass, Barnes?"

Bucky chooses to ignore that, instead taking another blissful sip of his coffee.

The trip from DC to Brooklyn takes about four hours, which means that Sam and Bucky arrive at the Wythe Hotel at five in the evening. It's a nice space, with two bedrooms holding queen beds, a small kitchenette with an island in the middle, and a living area. The little green couch that's planted right in front of the TV is one of the ugliest things Bucky's ever seen, but Sam seems delighted by it. 

"Can we go out tonight?" Sam asks, flopping onto Bucky's bed as he's unpacking. "I wanna see your old neighbourhood."

"I haven't been here in ten years, Sam," Bucky reminds him, carefully folding a pair of jeans. "Things have changed." Sam pouts and blinks his big brown eyes mournfully, and Bucky sighs. "Okay, fine. But we're taking the subway."

"No!"

"We are not wasting all our money on Ubers and taxis, Wilson! And that death-trap car of yours won't survive a day!"

"The subway is a shithole!"

"It's cheap!"

The argument continues throughout the next three hours, getting changed, grabbing their wallets and walking down to the station, and Sam spends the entire ride trying not to touch anything.

"Never took you for a germaphobe, Wilson," Bucky teases, relaxing back into the seat of the subway car like the native rat that he is. 

"You New Yorkers are disgusting. Every one of you. You live in filth and call it paradise," Sam mutters mutinously. A man sitting opposite them glares. Bucky glares back.

"You live in DC, you have no leg to stand on."

" _You_ live in DC too!"

The other passengers seem relieved when Sam and Bucky finally leave the carriage.

The bar looks almost exactly the same as it did ten years ago, Bucky marvels as he and Sam step through the door. The décor is still chic going on trashy, his shoes stick to the floor as he walks - hell, even the old guy with the moustache that literally never left is in his usual spot near the back. Bucky's surprised he's still alive.

"Out of all the bars in New York to go to, you chose this dump?" Sam asks, wrinkling his nose. 

"I used to come here every week when I was younger," Bucky defends, ignoring Sam's protests and taking a seat at the bar. "This place was our favourite."

"You mean you and Steve?" Sam asks gently. Bucky signals for the bartender, ignoring the tight feeling in his throat.

"We always used to talk about how we'd have our wedding reception here," he finally responds.

"You were gonna come _here_ for your wedding reception?" Sam asks incredulously.

"We weren't planning on inviting many people," Bucky says, barely hearing his voice. He remembers the first time Steve asked him to marry him when they were sixteen and reckless, and Bucky had laughed and replied, "Ask me again when we're done with school, and I might say yes." How Bucky had said the same thing at their graduation, but that time talking about college. Midway through their last year of college and Steve's showing him the ring he bought with the money he made working at the supermarket, almost vibrating out of his skin with excitement. How it was only a couple of months later that Bucky came home to a pacing Steve and half the stuff in the apartment in moving boxes.

He's brought back by the dull thump of their drinks on top of the bar, and shakily reaches for his cocktail. Sam must have ordered while he was lost in his head, but he ordered it just how Bucky likes it - fruity and bright pink and ridiculous.

"This is not a time for mourning," Sam says, a little too loudly. "Are you getting far too sentimental about a bar and your ex-boyfriend who's getting married in two weeks? Absolutely."

"Gee, Sam, thanks," Bucky mumbles, sipping at his drink. 

"But!" Sam continues, speaking over him, "I, as your absolute bestest friend in the whole wide world, am determined to make these weeks some of the best of your life!"

"And how do you plan to do that?" Bucky asks, half sarcastically and half actually curious. And by curious, he means terrified, because Sam is a force to be reckoned with when he got some hair-brained scheme into his head.

"First, I am going to reinstall Grindr on your phone," Sam says, snatching Bucky's phone out of his pocket and ignoring his protests. "You haven't gotten laid in months and when you go for a long period of time without someone touching your dick or your ass you get cranky."

"I don't get cranky," Bucky mumbles crankily. Sam rolls his eyes.

"Second, we are going to order mozzarella sticks and you can get something gross and neon to drink and we'll get blackout drunk and maybe get kicked out for indecent exposure."

"That doesn't sound like something Riley would approve of," Bucky mutters.

"You are not telling Riley about any of this," Sam warns. "He'll give me that disappointed look when we get home and won't let me fuck him for a month and I'll sleep on the couch."

"You're not dissuading me," Bucky says candidly. Sam points a finger at him menacingly.

Bucky, surprisingly, ends up having a good time. The mozzarella sticks and fries are still the same as they were when he used to come here, greasy and drowning in diabetes and perfect, and Sam manages to rope him into a game of darts. They're both tipsy, and Sam almost pokes his own eye out with a dart. Bucky wins.

It's when Bucky's on his second cocktail and Sam's nursing a beer when Bucky hears a familiar voice behind him.

"Bucky Barnes, you son of a bitch!"

Bucky turns around in surprise and feels his face split into a grin when he catches sight of the person who spoke. "Gabe!"

Gabe Jones is leaning up against the bar, his eyes warm and playful and his collared shirt pushed up to his elbows. He grabs Bucky by the shoulders and ropes him into a hug, clapping him on the back hard enough that Bucky's wincing as he pulls back.

"Out of all the bars in New York City," Bucky teases. "You show your ugly mug here?"

"Hey now, don't give me that shit!" Gabe shoots back, crossing his arms dramatically. "I haven't seen you in what, ten years?"

"I live in DC now. Came up for the wedding."

Gabe raises his eyebrows. "Holy hell. I didn't think Rogers would have the guts to invite you. He's been skittish about it ever since they sent the invitations out."

Bucky frowns and is about to respond when Sam wraps an arm around his shoulders. "Barnes, you're leaving me out here. Who's this handsome fella?"

"Get off, asshole." Bucky pushes Sam off, but he's grinning. "Gabe, this is Sam. He came up with me as my plus-one."

"You're the one keeping this guy in line these days, huh?" Gabe asks cheekily as he grasps Sam's hand, and Sam sighs dramatically.

"It's gonna send me into an early grave, I'mma tell you that."

Gabe laughs and loops his arm over Bucky's shoulders. "Come sit with us. The whole gang's here - we even managed to get Dum Dum away from the missus for the night."

"He still seeing Mary?" Bucky asks, allowing Gabe to lead him away from the bar, Sam trailing just behind them with an amused look on his face.

"Yeah, man, they got hitched a few years ago up in the Poconos - small wedding, just their families. They got a daughter, too."

"Yeah? How's Dum Dum going with fatherhood?"

"I'm dreading the teen years, dude," Gabe replies, waving at someone Bucky couldn't see near the back of the bar. "He's already overprotective; that poor kid's gonna be in hell." Then he yells at the top of his lungs, "Hey fellas, guess what I found in the dumpster outside!"

The bar is so dark that Bucky doesn't even know which table Gabe's talking to until several people stand up from one of the booths and he's suddenly engulfed in several pairs of arms, with several voices excitedly screaming in his ears.

"Jesus Christ, get off me, you degenerates!" Bucky laughs, pushing Dum Dum away by the face an immediately retracting his hand. "Jesus, Dugan, you've still got that mop on your face?"

"We've given up on convincing him to shave it," Monty grumbles from where he's attached himself to Bucky's side. 

"Fuck you, I look great," Dum Dum shouts in Bucky's ear, making him wince. 

"Even Mary doesn't like it, man, just let it go," Morita sighs. "And quit your yellin' - I doubt Barnes here came all the way up here just to get hearing damage." A hand comes up to ruffle Bucky's hair, and he pushes it away indignantly.

"Okay, okay, let me go, assholes," he snaps, but the grin on his face probably didn't help his case. "Haven't seen you guys for years - ya gotta fill me in on things."

As the numerous arms that are gripping him retreat with grumbling, Bucky realises there's still someone sitting at the booth with their back to him. Then they stand up and turn around, and Bucky's lungs seize up.

Steve looks good. He's bigger than Bucky remembered, but Bucky doesn't know if that's because he'd forgotten or if Steve's been spending a lot of time at the gym. His hair is longer than Bucky's ever seen it, with strands falling into his eyes, and he has a beard - it's thick and shines gold in the dim light.

"Steve." Bucky would be embarrassed at how faint his voice is, but he's too busy drinking in the sight of his best friend after ten years. After Bucky came home from work in 2010 to find Steve pacing the living room, bags already sitting in a neat pile by the door. 

Steve smiles hesitantly and ducks his head, hunching his shoulders in the same way he always used to whenever he was sheepish or nervous. He scuffs his feet and looks back up at Bucky through his eyelashes, looking almost afraid. "Hey, Buck."

"I, uh, didn't know you'd be here tonight." 

Steve wilts slightly, but smiles again. "I didn't know you'd come up so soon. I wasn't expecting you for another week or so."

"Sam and I decided to come up early. As a holiday," Bucky says weakly, and almost sighs in relief as he feels Sam's hand on the small of his back, keeping him upright. 

"It's good to meet you," Sam says cheerfully, holding out the hand that isn't stopping Bucky from keeling over backwards. "Bucky's told me a lot about you."

Steve's eyes travel between Bucky and Sam a couple of times, a crease in his brow, but he eventually takes Sam's hand and smiles, although it looks strained. His eyes almost immediately flick back to Bucky as soon as he lets go of Sam's hand. 

There was a couple of seconds of awkward silence until Gabe speaks up. "So, you gonna tell us what you got up to since you left NYC, or are we gonna have'ta guess?"

Bucky tears his eyes away from Steve's and laughs, allowing Dernier to grab him by the shoulders and push him down into the booth. "I guess I can be persuaded."

"You'd better start off with what the hell's going on with your arm," Dum Dum says cheerfully, pushing a large stein in front of Bucky. 

"Jesus Dugan, you can't just ask that!" Gabe looks slightly horrified, and Bucky chuckles.

"It's fine." He takes a sip of the beer. It's nice. "After I left, I joined the army. Did a couple of tours there and on my last one the RV I was riding in went over a landmine. I was stuck in the rubble for, what, a day?"

"Bout that," Sam says casually, stealing Bucky's beer and taking a swig.

"You were there too?" Dernier asks curiously.

"Nah, I got there later. I was pararescue, my partner and I were sent in to get Buck out."

"And something happened to your arm?" Monty asks.

"Lost it. This is a prosthetic." To demonstrate, Bucky takes off the glove on his left hand and wiggles the metal fingers. 

Steve, who so far has been quiet, lets out a little pained sound. "Bucky..."

"It's alright, Steve," Bucky says in amusement. "It was years ago."

"And the arm is badass," Morita chimes in. "Where'd you get it?"

"Stark Industries. I'm part of an experimental prosthetics program - I get check-ups from Tony every few months or so."

"Tony _Stark_?" Monty asks incredulously. 

Sam lets out a chuckle and leans back in his seat. "We're gonna need a lot more booze to have this conversation."

"I'll get us another round," Steve says, and Bucky can't help but watch the way his muscles tense and ripple as he slides out of the booth and makes his way back over to the bar. 

"So did you two meet when Sammy here pulled you out of the fire, or earlier?" Dum Dum asks.

"We don't count our first meeting, since I was technically unconscious for the entire time," Bucky retorts. "Our proper first meeting, I was high on morphine and thought that Sam was a holy angel because he gave me a peanut butter cup."

"And as soon as you met Riley you abandoned me," Sam sniffs, and Bucky punches his shoulder.

"Have you ever made me dinner, Wilson?"

"I bought you peanut butter cups!"

"Who's Riley?" Gabe asks curiously.

"My partner in crime and life," Sam pretends to swoon onto Bucky's lap, and Bucky pushes him off with a roll of his eyes.

"Sam's husband. Who is so much better than Sam. Who I should have brought up here instead." He emphasises the statement with a poke to Sam's ribs, making the other man yelp.

"Wait," Dernier butts in, leaning forward towards them, "You two aren't dating?"

Bucky blinks, then looks over at an equally perplexed Sam, who bursts into giggles. "Definitely not."

Sam's still chuckling away like the thought of dating Bucky is the funniest thing he's ever heard, and just to shut him up Bucky says to Monty, "So Sammy here thinks himself the best drinker in DC," and Monty starts cackling like a Bond villain. Sam immediately stops laughing and looks affronted, like insulting his drinking abilities is equivalent to spitting at his mother's feet.

"Oh, you think you can beat me?" Sam challenges, leaning forward and glaring at Monty. 

Bucky catches Morita's eye and winks, and Morita immediately jumps in and says, "Of course he does. Monty here is pure English - he'd be able to drink your DC ass under the table."

Steve slides back into the booth, a tray of assorted beer and liquor in his hands. "What'd I miss?"

"Oh Stevie, we should not have sent you away," Bucky chuckles as Sam and Monty split the shots between the two of them. "We're gonna need the emergency room on speed dial."

"I'm gonna get more shots," Dum Dum chirps, clapping Sam and Monty on the shoulders and bouncing off. Steve watches him go and looks over at Bucky resignedly.

"Drinking contest?"

Bucky smiles sympathetically and nudges Steve's foot under the table. "You'll help with the clean-up, right?"

"I don't even know why I bother," Steve grumbles, but he curls his foot around Buckys. Bucky tries to forget that it's the first time in ten years that he's touching Steve.

By midnight Sam's plastered himself to Bucky's side, completely shitfaced. Monty's got a smug look on his face, his flushed cheeks the only indication that he's just downed ten shots of bourbon. Bucky, having several years of experience of Drunk Sam, just lets his best friend snuggle up to him like an oversized buff teddy bear.

Steve keeps looking over at them strangely, his lips pursed and his eyebrows furrowed like he's confused about something, but every time Bucky catches him doing it he looks away quickly.

"I think Sammy's had a bit too much," Dum Dum sings, leaning into Bucky's other side. He's been downing beers all night, and Bucky's surprised he can still stand up without falling over.

"I totally won," Sam slurs, and Bucky sighs, petting his head.

"Of course, dear." Sam leans up to press a sloppy and very disgusting kiss to Bucky's cheek, then buries his face back in Bucky's neck. Bucky rolls his eyes and wipes his cheek off while trying not to jostle the half-asleep lump hanging off him like a limpet.

Dum Dum groans and stretches his arms over his head, almost knocking his stein off the table. "I should head off. Mary says I gotta be back before one."

"Aww, you got a curfew!" Morita simpers, and Gabe elbows him in the ribs.

"I'm the married one out of the two of us, Jimmy, you ain't got a leg to stand on." He claps Bucky and Sam on the back on his way past. "Good to see you again, Buck. Make sure Sammy there drinks some raw egg yolks tomorrow morning."

"I think I'll take you up on that," Bucky muses, looking down at a happily oblivious Sam.

Dum Dum winks and saunters out of the bar, only bumping into one doorframe on the way. 

"I think we should head off too," Bucky sighs, looping one of Sam's arms around his shoulders. "Gotta get this big lug to bed."

"I'll walk you out," Steve volunteers, and Bucky feels a warm glow in his stomach and can't help but smile at Steve. 

"Don't you be a stranger, Barnes!" Dernier slurs, smacking a kiss to Bucky's cheek. "I expect a follow request on Facebook by tomorrow morning."

"Sure thing, Frenchie," Bucky chuckles, pulling Sam out of the booth. "Steve, little help?"

Steve immediately loops one of Sam's arms around his shoulders and lifts him out of the booth with ease, and Bucky tries not to watch the way his biceps tense. Instead, Bucky focuses on making sure Sam doesn't face-plant on the ground, and leads them out of the bar. When they get onto the street Bucky involuntarily shivers and takes his phone out, calling an Uber. The app says that the driver would be there in five minutes.

"We got a few minutes until the car comes," Bucky mumbles, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Sam leans into his side and mumbles something indecipherable, but Bucky ignores him. Apart from Sam, who doesn't count because he's blackout drunk and probably won't remember this in the morning, this is the first time he's been alone with Steve all night. It makes him feel a little vulnerable.

"You guys are staying at the Wythe, right?" Steve asks as they stand on the curb, waiting for the car.

"Yeah. Your wedding planner's got everyone there. Said the Carters were paying."

Steve huffs a laugh, but he doesn't sound particularly happy. "Yeah. They insisted on paying for everything."

Bucky doesn't know how to respond to that, so he doesn't. It's a bit awkward, standing there with a now-unconscious Sam propped up between them as a makeshift wall, and Bucky's relieved when the Uber finally pulls up on the curb. Steve helps him bustle Sam into the back seat, and after a split-second decision, Bucky motions for the driver to wait and gets back out of the car to stand in front of Steve.

"It was nice seeing you tonight," Bucky murmurs. It's barely audible over the noise of the street, but Steve's face lights up like he'd just been told Christmas was coming early.

"It was nice to see you too, Buck." 

"Can I have your phone?" At Steve's confused look, Bucky explains, "I got the other's numbers earlier, when you were in the bathroom. Let me give you mine."

Steve takes his phone out of his pocket so fast he almost drops it, and Bucky has to suppress a smile as he keys in his number. Steve starts rocking backwards and forwards on his heels nervously, and when Bucky raises an eyebrow at him he blushes and rubs the back of his neck.

"Since you're in the city early, I was wondering... you don't have'ta do it or anything, it's just a suggestion, but if you maybe wanna get coffee with me sometime? To catch up?" Steve stammers. Bucky blinks a couple of times, and he must take too long to respond because Steve's babbling about how there's no pressure and that it was a stupid idea anyway, and "I shouldn't have asked, I'm sorry Buck, I just-"

"Steve." Bucky rests his hand lightly on Steve's arm. Steve promptly shuts his mouth, his face bright red, and Bucky can't help but laugh quietly. "Yeah, I'll get coffee with you sometime."

Steve immediately brightens up, his cheeks still red but a goofy grin on his face. "Really?"

"Yes, you idiot. You were my best friend."

Steve smiles and ducks his head, then looks up nervously. "Buck, can I... Can I hug you?"

Bucky lets out a soft breath and nods, not trusting himself to answer. Steve hesitantly steps forward and envelops Bucky in his arms, pulling their bodies flush together and resting his head on Bucky's shoulder. Bucky's body completely betrays him and melts against Steve, his arms winding around Steve's shoulders and fingers curling into his hair. It's longer than Bucky's ever seen it, and he twirls some of the silky blonde strands between his fingers. Steve hums happily and snuffles at Bucky's neck, his lips brushing the soft skin in an almost-kiss that makes Bucky shiver. 

"I should-" Bucky starts, and Steve immediately lets go, backing away a little with a flush on his cheeks.

"Right."

"Text me?"

Steve grins. "Definitely."

Bucky smiles back, and opens the door of the Uber, just managing to avoid hitting his head on the doorway and making a fool of himself. Steve gives a little dorky wave as the car starts moving, and Bucky can't help but wave back. Sam gives a little grunt and falls on Bucky's shoulder, snoring loud enough to wake the dead, and Bucky sends an apologetic glance to the driver. 

They manage to go the whole drive without Sam puking, but the same can't be said for getting out, when Sam keels over and throws up into the gutter. Bucky winces and makes a mental note to never tell Riley about this, otherwise they'd both be grounded like little kids. When they get up to their room, it doesn't take long for Bucky to undress Sam and tuck him into bed, which gave him plenty of time to overanalyse the night throughout brushing his teeth and getting changed. The conclusion Bucky comes to as he's finally turning off the light is that he is definitely not over Steve Rogers.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky wakes up at nine in the morning to the tell-tale sound of Sam throwing up in the bathroom. Silently thanking every deity he can think of that he didn't drink last night, Bucky manages to haul himself out of bed and to the bathroom, where Sam's draped over the toilet bowl like it holds the secrets of life and death.

"You look like hell," Bucky states, and he can hear the glee in his voice.

"Go and fuck yourself," Sam mumbles back, and Bucky cackles on his way to the kitchen. 

His phone buzzes when he's in the middle of making a stack of eggs and bacon, and he digs it out of his pocket and absently turns it on. Then almost drops it into the frypan.

_Unknown Number: Hey, Buck, it's Steve. We talked about maybe catching up some time over coffee, and I just checked my schedule and I'm free for a few hours today. You up for it?_

Bucky needs to put the phone down for a few minutes, concentrating on not burning the eggs. Sure, he and Steve had talked about catching up, and he'd given Steve his number, but he hadn't actually thought Steve would text - or, if he did, it'd be at least a few days. When he finishes plating up the eggs and bacon Bucky grabs his phone again and starts to type out an answer.

_Well, Sammy's got a huge hangover and I don't wanna be around for that, so the sooner the better._

Bucky puts his phone back in his pocket and carries the plates over to the table. Sam's dragged himself out of the bathroom, presumably at the smell of cooking, and is slouched over his arms doing his best impression of a corpse.

"How are you feeling?" Bucky asks amusedly, placing one of the plates in front of Sam, who immediately shoots up like a dog that had smelled something interesting, then groans and clutches his head at the sudden movement.

"Why didn't you stop me from drinking so much?" he grumbles, starting to shovel food into his mouth. Bucky watches in both fascination and disgust.

"I couldn't have stopped you if I tried," Bucky replies, beginning to eat his breakfast with decidedly more grace than Sam. "And besides, it was pretty funny."

His phone buzzes and Bucky fumbles when taking it out of his pocket.

_Meet me at the diner a block from your old place? 11?_

_See you then. You're paying_ , Bucky texts back. He looks up to see Sam's eyebrow raised.

"Who're you texting so early in the morning?"

"It's nine, Sam," Bucky reminds him, taking a sip of coffee.

"And you're avoiding the question," Sam points out.

Bucky pauses, then sighs. "It's Steve. We're getting coffee in a couple of hours."

It shows how hungover Sam is that he doesn't even tease Bucky about it; he just grunts and continues shovelling food in his mouth. 

At ten forty-five Bucky leaves a miserable Sam lying on the couch with a glass of water and a couple of Advil, kissing his forehead on the way out. The walk is pleasant; the late Spring weather meaning that Bucky only needs a light jacket, and the bustling streets of Brooklyn are familiar, despite his long time away.

The diner Steve asked to meet him in used to be a favourite haunt of theirs as kids. Bucky even worked there for a few years during high school. When they eventually got together, Steve brought him there for dates every Wednesday and they drank milkshakes from the same glass and Steve always gave Bucky his glace cherry.

It's been refurbished since the last time Bucky was there, and he finds it a little disappointing. The walls are now a pale blue instead of the ugly yellow they'd been for decades, and the booths have a new leather covering, replacing the cracked vinyl that had always had lumps in the worst places. 

Steve's already there, sitting in their old booth with a cup of coffee cradled in his hands. He looks so strange sitting there, so much bigger than the last time Bucky saw him in that spot; his legs are just a little too long to comfortably fit under the table, and Bucky finds himself smiling fondly. Steve glances up as Bucky approaches, and his face breaks into a smile.

"Bucky," Steve breathes happily, standing up and extending his hand. Bucky looks at the outstretched hand in distaste, bats it to the side, and steps forward to pull Steve into a hug.

"A handshake, Rogers," he mutters. "We ain't colleagues or acquaintances, don't pull that shit with me."

Steve, after a couple of seconds of stunned stillness, chuckles and wraps Bucky up in his arms. "Sorry. Didn't know how to..."

"Yeah."

Bucky reluctantly lets go after a few seconds, and he swears Steve's arms tighten around him for a split second before he's let go.

"You get home alright last night?" Steve asks as they sit down. Bucky's pleased to see the little nick in the table he always used to play with is still there, and he digs his nails into the linoleum. 

"Sorta. Sam managed to hold it in until we got to the hotel, and he puked all over the sidewalk." Steve winces, but he's chuckling.

"I'm guessing he wasn't in the best state this morning?" he quips, and Bucky laughs.

"Definitely not. Woke up to the sounds of him worshipping the porcelain throne."

"Sounds charming."

"Don't act coy, Rogers, you and I both know I've seen you in worse situations than that."

Steve laughs, and Bucky feels himself smile, too, unable to help himself from tracing his eyes over Steve's body. It had been dark in the bar, and now that it's daylight again Bucky can clearly see things he'd missed when checking Steve out last night. The tips of his hair are a lot lighter than Bucky remembers, with the roots being darker, and Bucky can only assume that Steve's been spending more time outside. His beard is darker than Bucky expected, with auburn highlights, and Bucky can now see that it looks soft and well cared for. He wonders idly how that beard would feel against his bare skin, then quickly banishes the thought. 

Bucky's brought out of his musings by a waitress coming over with a couple of menus, obnoxiously chewing on some gum.

"Y'all want a drink to start off with?" she asks with a distinct Southern drawl.

"I'll have a black coffee," Steve says, and Bucky rolls his eyes at him.

"Latte, please."

The waitress nods, pops her gum again, and leaves. Bucky raises an eyebrow at Steve, who blinks innocently.

"You're still drinking that bitter sludge?"

"I'm drinking it for the caffeine, not for the taste," Steve argues. "And besides, the milk in coffee takes away some caffeine."

"You can't still think that," Bucky groans well-naturedly. "Stevie, I've explained this to you a thousand times. A latte has just as much caffeine as a black coffee, it just tastes better."

"And it contains more fat," Steve says haughtily. "And I'm on a diet."

"Why?" Bucky asks in amazement. "You could get a job as a model."

Steve shifts a bit, then, and drops his gaze to the table. "Peggy's folks don't want me to be soft around the middle in the wedding pics."

Bucky feels a flash (read: an overwhelming surge) of anger towards Steve's future parents-in-law, and opens his mouth to say so, but the look on Steve's face stops him. Instead, he sighs and leans forward, rests a hand on Steve's, quirks his lips into a smirk. "I bet you'd look great with some love handles."

Steve's cheeks turn red, but he smiles bashfully. "You don't have'ta say that, Buck. I know you like your fellas beefy."

"I'm being serious!" Bucky laughs. "You'd be like a big teddy bear. Nice and cuddly."

"What, I'm not cuddly now?" Steve teases.

"Of course you are. Those tree-trunk arms gotta be good for something," Bucky shoots back, and Steve snorts. His retort is cut off by the return of the waitress with a notepad and their coffees, and they drop the argument in favour of ordering. Despite the fact that Bucky ate only two hours before, he easily gets through the waffles he's ordered. Steve's eating habits apparently haven't changed in the ten years they've been apart, because he attacks his eggs like a starving man, getting hollandaise stuck in his beard as Bucky watches in amazed horror.

"Steve," he finally has to say, and Steve looks up at him with a piece of bacon hanging from the corner of his mouth. "Please, for the love of God, wipe your face. You have a napkin for a reason."

Steve looks at him innocently, before shoving another too-large mouthful into his gaping maw and chewing obnoxiously loud. Bucky kicks him under the table and tries to hide his grin.

They end up staying for much longer than they were expecting, and it's only when they're making their way through their third order of coffee that Steve's phone rings from its place on the table. Bucky sneaks a peek, and his heart drops when he sees the picture - Steve, with a pretty brunette with red lips who's showing a ring off to the camera. Steve grabs the phone before Bucky can remark on how little Peggy has changed since they knew her in college.

"Hey, Pegs." Steve's face suddenly goes pale and he looks down at his watch. "Shit! Babe, I'm so sorry, I didn't see the time. I'm coming right now, okay? Love you." He quickly hangs up and looks over at Bucky apologetically, already shrugging into his coat. "Buck, I'm so sorry, I didn't realise how late it was. I need to get to a meeting with the wedding planner."

Bucky glances at his phone and almost balks - it's already three in the afternoon. "Jesus, we've been here four hours. It's okay, I'll pay, you get outta here."

Steve beams and pulls Bucky out of his seat into a hug. "I'll call you later, sweetheart." He kisses Bucky's cheek and rushes out of the diner, leaving Bucky with a rolling stomach and a burning spot on his cheek and wondering whether Steve had meant to call him sweetheart.

\-------

When Bucky gets back to the hotel room he immediately smells spices and beef. He sighs in relief and walks into the kitchen area and flops onto one of the stools, and Sam turns from his position at the stove. He's obviously making his mama's chilli, and Bucky's silently relieved because Darlene Wilson's chilli is good for hangovers and depression alike.

"How was Steve?" Sam asks teasingly, a grin on his face. Bucky looks at him for a couple of seconds, feeling his vision go blurry. Sam's expression quickly drops and he puts the lid back over the chilli, making his way around the island to grip Bucky's shoulders. "Hey, hey Buck, it's okay. Shit, let's get you to the couch, okay?"

Through all his blubbering, Bucky manages to convey why exactly he's acting like a tragic heroine whose husband has died at sea, curled up with his head in Sam's lap and Sam's fingers in his hair. It's slightly embarrassing, the way Steve's able to completely fuck him up over a couple of simple words and a kiss on the cheek, but Bucky's honestly too miserable to care. 

Sam sets him up on the ugly couch with a bowl of chilli and rice, and after Bucky calms down enough to string two words together without his voice hitching, he manages to tell the full story.

"He kissed you?" Sam asks in outrage, already vibrating slightly. Bucky sighs into his chilli, taking another huge mouthful. Mama Wilson did not fuck around with her chilli recipes. 

"I don't think he realised he did it," Bucky responds dully. This did not have the effect he was hoping for, since Sam puffs up even more, resembling an angry sparrow. Bucky's brain helpfully photoshopped Sam's face onto a chicken's.

"He's getting married in two weeks, and he thinks that he has the right to string you around like that?! Does he kiss all of his friends on the cheek and call them _sweetheart_? Even if he did, you'd think he'd be a bit less tactile with his _ex-boyfriend._ "

Bucky manages to block Sam's rant out and instead slurps his chilli obscenely loudly. He would rather not talk about Steve again today. Or preferably ever. He just needs a hug and more chilli. And maybe a few bottles of alcohol.

\------

True to his word, Steve calls Bucky at eight that night. Bucky, because he is a complete and utter fool, picks up the phone almost immediately, ignoring Sam's disapproving huff. 

"I know I said this before, but I'm so sorry I had to leave," is the first thing out of Steve's mouth, and Bucky can't help but chuckle.

"Steve, we lost track of time. It happens."

"Still."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "You're a stubborn punk, you know that?"

"You only told me every day for fifteen years," Steve teases.

"You'd think by now you'd have gotten the hint," Bucky retorts, standing up from his place on the couch and walking over to his room. 

"I've built up an immunity," Steve quips back. Bucky laughs, falling backwards onto his bed. "But I did have something to talk to you about."

"Something you forgot to talk to me about in the four hours we spent together earlier?" 

"I'm having a bachelor party next week."

Like that, Bucky's good mood almost completely vanishes. In the short time talking to Steve, he'd completely forgotten that the only reason he's even talking to Steve right now is because he's back in Brooklyn, and the only reason he's back in Brooklyn is because _it's for Steve's wedding._

"Yeah? Who's organising that?" Bucky asks, trying to keep his voice even. "It'd better not be you, because planning your own bachelor party's pretty narcissistic of you, Rogers."

"If it were up to me, Barnes, I wouldn't even be having a bachelor party," Steve parrots. "Dum Dum's organising."

"Oh no."

"So I am asking you very nicely if you would like to come along and protect me."

Bucky can't help but laugh. "Steve. You're inviting me to your bachelor party so I'll protect you from some ginger in a bowler hat?"

"Please, Buck?" Bucky bets that Steve's doing his pleading puppy eyes. "Drinks will be on Dugan."

Bucky hesitates. On the one hand, he has missed the Howlies, and it'll be great to see them again before the wedding. And despite what Steve says, Dum Dum really knows how to plan a party. But it's _Steve's bachelor party_. Bucky doesn't know if he'll be able to handle a celebration of the man he's in love with getting married to another person. Despite that, it'll probably be good practise for the wedding, where he'll have to watch Steve tie the knot with Peggy Carter.

Bucky sighs dramatically, flinging an arm over his face. Steve couldn't see him doing it, but hey, it's the principle of the thing. "As long as I get to bring Sam."

Steve goes quiet for a couple of seconds, then says, "Sure thing. Sam can come." He sounds almost annoyed, and Bucky frowns. Maybe he doesn't like Sam. But that would make no sense - Sam's literally the easiest person to like. Shaking off his bewilderment, Bucky folds his free arm under his head, then switches arms because metal is not a good pillow and switches his phone from his right to his left hand. 

"So when is it?" Bucky asks.

"...Next week?" Steve sounds nonplussed. Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, I got that, dipshit. What time next week?"

"Probably Friday night. I don't know. Text Dugan about it."

"You're the one who invited me!" Bucky laughs. "Fine, I'll text him later."

There's a lull in their conversation, but the silence isn't uncomfortable. Bucky can hear Steve's soft breathing on the other end of the line, and he adjusts the phone against his ear. 

"I've been meaning to ask you something," Bucky finally says, and hopes that Steve didn't just hear the crack in his voice.

"Yeah?" Steve sounds sleepy. Like he's also in bed. Bucky pushes those thoughts out of his mind.

"When did you and Peggy get together?"

Steve's quiet for a few seconds. "Why do you ask?"

Bucky bites his lip to hold back the words that are just begging to come out. _Were you seeing her while we were still together? Did you leave me for her?_ "I'm going to your wedding in two weeks, Stevie. I feel like I should know about the beginnings of your relationship."

Why was he torturing himself like this? Why couldn't Bucky just keep his mouth shut and live in blissful ignorance over when and how his ex started dating his soon-to-be wife?

"It was maybe... Four years ago?" Steve finally says. "I don't know if you remember this, but she and I used to work together, but she went back to England after a year or so. But she came back to the states about five years ago, and we ran into each other at a company function a year later. We've been together ever since." Steve pauses. "Why did you really ask, Buck?"

Bucky closes his eyes, raking a hand over his face. "It's not important, Steve. Really."

Steve's quiet. "Okay."

"Listen, I have to go," Bucky says, suddenly desperate to get out of the conversation. "I'll see you Friday?"

"Yeah, but Buck, wait-"

Bucky hung up and threw the phone to the side. Then he covered his face with his hands and cried.

\------

Bucky knows he can't avoid Steve forever, but that doesn't stop him from watching his phone ring until voicemail every time Steve tries to call throughout the week. Every time Sam catches him staring longingly at the ringing phone he groans loudly and proclaims Bucky's idiocy, then leaves to Facetime Riley. 

Bucky does end up texting Dum Dum, who'd apparently already been told that both he and Sam were coming, and they waste an afternoon texting back and forth about Dum Dum's kid (he sends a picture too; Bucky almost cries the kid's so cute). 

Sam and Bucky spend the week exploring the city, visiting Bucky's old haunts and seeing what's changed. Bucky's amazed at how many hipster joints have opened, with their vegan cafes and tattoo parlours, and Sam's fascinated by the sheer number of pizza places.

Before Bucky knows it it's Friday evening, and he's standing in front of his suitcase looking for something to wear.

"Buck, it's not a big deal," Sam reminds him from the door. "Just wear what you'd normally wear to the bar with Riley and me."

"But it's Steve's bachelor party!" Bucky sighs, rifling through the clothes. 

Sam groans and walks forward, pushing Bucky out of the way and sifting through the clothes, eventually grabbing a pair of black skinny jeans and a dark red Henley.

"Wear this with your boots and leather jacket," Sam says. "Now hurry up, Dum Dum's picking us up in ten minutes."

Bucky swears and starts stripping out of his clothes, Sam chuckling behind him. By the time he's fixed his hair and come out of his room, Sam's shrugging on his jacket and grabbing the keys.

"They're downstairs," Sam says, stopping in front of Bucky on his way to the door. "You gonna be okay?"

Bucky takes a deep breath and smiles a bit shakily. "I'll be fine." Sam smiles back sadly, and loops an arm around Bucky's shoulders.

"That's my boy. Let's go get wasted."

As Sam said, Dum Dum's waiting for them outside, a shit-eating grin on his face. He's wearing an orange pin-striped suit and a matching feather boa, his regular bowler hat is sitting askew on his head, and he's standing next to an honest-to-god limousine.

"Dugan, what the fuck," Bucky says flatly, unable to stop himself from giggling. He looks _ridiculous_.

"Hey there, boys!" Dum Dum says cheerfully. "You ready for the best night of your lives?"

"I think the best night of my life was my wedding," Sam mumbles, but follows Bucky down to the limousine. Dum Dum opens the door with a flourish and waves them through, and Bucky can't help but snort. 

The interior of the limousine is just as flashy as the outside. It's all black, with a leather bench that does not look like it could fit eight fully-grown men, with a minibar opposite. The lights are fluorescent pinks and yellows, and the way they shine off the black walls and carpet is soothing. Gabe, Dernier, Morita and Monty are already in there, each with a different coloured feather boa. 

"Please don't ask," Morita says as soon as they sit down. "Dugan made us."

"Here are yours, boys," Gabe says, throwing a blue and a purple feather boa into Bucky's lap. Sam picks up the purple one with an appreciative look, and Bucky immediately takes a picture and sends it to Riley. 

"The poor bastard who's stuck driving us everywhere tonight says it'll take about fifteen minutes to get to Steve's place," Dugan says cheerfully, sliding into the back seat with them. "Pegs is home too, so we'll be able to see her."

"Great," Bucky says a little weakly. "I haven't seen her in years." He feels Sam's hand slide into his and gives it a thankful squeeze.

"Well, there's no use in waiting for the man of the night." Dum Dum produces a bottle of champagne from the bar. "Drinks?"

By the time they get to Steve's place, they've polished off the bottle of champagne and are halfway through their second. Dum Dum stumbles out of the limousine as soon as it's parked, motioning for them to follow him. 

"You sure it's a good idea for all of us to show up at his door?" Sam asks doubtfully.

"Hell no, I'm staying here," Morita says.

" _Trinquer!_ " Dernier cries, raising his glass. 

"We haven't got all day, fellas!" Dum Dum roars from in front of them. Bucky rolls his eyes and turns to Sam.

"You can stay here. Make sure Dernier doesn't get near the stronger stuff."

"You got it, Sarge," Sam winks and ruffles Bucky's hair, then slides back into the limousine. Bucky turns back to the apartment complex, takes a deep breath, and followed Dum Dum, Gabe and Monty in.

Steve apparently lives on the top floor, in a penthouse apartment. The foyer of the building is done in soft whites and marble, and Bucky can't help but feel just a little bit out of his league. Steve lives _here_? The Stevie he grew up with wouldn't even be able to stomach living somewhere that so obviously flaunts its wealth. Even the elevator's fancy.

Dum Dum knocks on Steve's door far too enthusiastically, and Bucky shares an exasperated look with Monty. He can't tell if Dum Dum's acting like this because he's excited, or he's already smashed. As soon as the door is opened, Bucky feels his grin become less happy and more _oh shit_.

Peggy Carter doesn't look much different from when she was twenty-three. Her cheekbones are sharper, and there's less baby fat around her face and waist, and her hair's shorter, coming to rest on her shoulders in pretty chocolate waves. She's wearing a white blouse and a pencil skirt, and she's sexy and commanding and perfect for Steve. Bucky has to close his eyes for a second, just to keep his cool and not start crying in the middle of the hallway.

"Good lord, Timothy, how much have you had to drink?" Peggy asks, opening the door a bit wider. "You'll have to excuse me, gentleman. I just got home and I have much work to do."

Bucky frowns; it's nine-thirty. How long were her work hours? _Does she even have time for Steve?_

"Steven's just freshening up in the bedroom; he should be out soon," Peggy continues, then her gaze meets Buckys. She pauses, frowning at him, and Bucky has to fight the urge to cower. "I'm sorry, you look familiar, but I don't believe we know each other."

Bucky blinks. "Uh, we did. Over a decade ago."

Peggy's expression doesn't change, and Gabe coughs. "Peggy, this is Bucky - uh, James. Barnes."

Peggy very suddenly goes still, and her eyes are a lot colder than before. "I see." Bucky shifts under her glare, regretting that he hadn't stayed in the limo. Thankfully, Steve comes out of the bedroom quickly enough, and Bucky's gaze immediately slides to him. He's wearing dark slacks and a blue button-up that highlights his physique, and _god_ he's beautiful. He also immediately perks up when he sees Bucky, and comes bounding over to pull him into a hug.

"Buck! I didn't know if you'd be here," Steve says happily, almost lifting Bucky off his feet in his enthusiasm. Bucky can't help but laugh as he wraps his arms around Steve's ridiculous shoulders.

"You did invite me," Bucky reminds him. "It'd just be rude to not come."

Steve hums and nuzzles the side of Bucky's head. "Hey, Dum Dum. Gabe. Monty."

"Hello, Rogers," Monty says amusedly. "I think you can put Barnes down now."

"Oh! Right." Steve quickly sets Bucky back on solid ground and steps away, a faint blush on his cheeks. "Sorry."

"No, no, it's fine," Bucky's voice is a little breathy, but he chalks that up to Steve's very solid grip. 

Peggy loudly clears her throat, and Bucky quickly looks away, cheeks burning. He'd completely forgotten she was there. "Well, I guess I should let you boys go. Steven, don't forget, we have a meeting with Angie at ten tomorrow morning."

"Sure, Peg," Steve says. He walks over and kisses her on the cheek, and Peggy grabs his face and pulls him down for a much longer, open-mouthed kiss. When they pull apart, Steve's hair is mussed and there's red lipstick around his mouth. Bucky has to look away.

"Alright, let's get this party started!" Dum Dum cheers, apparently unable to spot the tension in the air. Gabe bumps Bucky's shoulder, and when Bucky glances up he's got a sympathetic look on his face.

"So what are we doing?" Steve asks, falling into step alongside them. He still looks a bit dazed, and he hasn't wiped the lipstick off. 

"That is for me to know and you to not know!" Dum Dum sings, skipping ahead like an overly buff fairy. Steve leans in close, and Bucky can feel his breath on his neck.

"I didn't do anything wrong on Saturday, did I?" he murmurs. 

"What makes you think that?" Bucky asks, equally softly. 

"You hung up pretty abruptly, and didn't answer my calls for the next six days," Steve points out. "What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything," Bucky sighs. "Can we talk about it later?"

Steve looks like he's about to argue, but they're out of the apartment building by then and standing next to the limo. Instead, he slips his hand into Bucky's and squeezes, before letting go. Bucky can still feel the imprint of him on his palm. 

"Everything okay?" Sam whispers as Bucky slides in next to him. 

"I'll tell you when we get back to the hotel," Bucky whispers back. Sam wraps an arm around his shoulders and kisses the side of his head. Steve slips into the limo and just as he goes to sit down, he balks, his eyes flicking between Sam and Bucky. 

"You okay, man?" Sam asks, and Steve seems to snap out of his stupor.

"Just zoned out for a sec." Steve sits in the vacant spot between Bucky and Dernier, who's still going at the champagne bottle, and Bucky has to take a deep breath. Steve's thigh is warm and thick and pressed right up against his, and the fact that Bucky knows just what that leg feels like when he's grinding down on it does not help. Sam's hand moves from his shoulder to grip his hand, and Bucky squeezes back gratefully.

It turns out that Dum Dum had reserved them a table at a high-end club, with table service and a clear view of the rest of the club. Steve is given a violently pink feather boa and a gold plastic crown, and almost as soon as they sit down Dum Dum's ordering a round of tequila shots for the table. Morita raises his glass, a gleam in his eyes.

"To little Stevie Rogers, who, by some miracle, has found someone who'll put up with his stubborn ass!" Steve groans, but he's chuckling as he tosses back the shot. Bucky finds himself watching the golden skin of Steve's neck as he swallows.

"I think I'm gonna dance," Sam declares. "Anyone coming?"

"Oy, Morita," Dum Dum whispers conspiratorially. "Bet you can't beat me in a dance-off."

"Try me, Hasselhoff," Morita snaps back, standing up and grabbing the drink out of Dum Dum's hand, drinking it all in one go. Sam turns to Bucky and wiggles his eyebrows, offering his hand.

"How bout you, darlin'?" he drawls in an absolutely terrible Southern accent. "You gonna let me show ya a good time?"

"You wish, Wilson," Bucky shoots back, but he takes Sam's hand and allows him to pull him off to the dancefloor, Dum Dum and Morita close behind. Almost immediately Dum Dum starts breakdancing (Bucky didn't even know he could do that) and space is almost immediately made on the floor, people flocking around to watch. 

"You wanna watch this, or do you wanna actually dance?" Bucky yells over the music. Sam grabs his hand and pulls him further into the crowd.

"I've missed being able to dance," Sam yells as soon as they stop moving. "Riley keeps telling me I can go out to clubs without him, but it doesn't feel right, leaving him at home while I have a good time."

"He'll probably be over the moon that you're finally doing stuff for yourself," Bucky says back, pushing his hair back from his face and starting to move to the music. It's some loud, electro stuff, with a strong beat that shakes the floor. A tall, broad-shouldered guy a few meters away catches his eye, and Bucky feels a rush of heat go through his body as the man looks him up and down heatedly. "And hey, maybe you can help me get laid."

"Thought you didn't wanna do that," Sam says, but he's grinning. 

"Yeah well, I may as well stop pining over a guy who's about to get married." Bucky grins, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

"In that case, I'm going back to see what Dum Dum and Morita are doing." Sam playfully punches his shoulder, then goes back the way they'd come. Bucky tips his head back and closes his eyes, losing himself in the pulsing crowd and the beat. A pair of hands rest on his hips, and he turns around to see the guy from before standing close enough to kiss.

"You here with anyone?" the man asks, and Bucky shudders as the man's breath tickles his ear. 

"Friend's bachelor party," he says back and loops his arms around the man's neck. He's taller than Bucky by a good few inches. Bucky staunchly ignores the fact that the man's hair is blonde. "I'm Bucky."

"Thor."

"Dance with me?"

Thor's hands tighten, and he starts to move his hips in slow, flowing motions. Bucky matches his pace easily, sliding his right hand up to scratch through the bristles at the base of Thor's neck. It's nice, especially when Thor spins him around and presses his front right up against Bucky's back, his beard prickling against the soft skin of Bucky's neck. Bucky sighs and tips his head back, curling one arm around Thor's head and the other holding onto the thick forearm wrapped around his belly. Eventually, Thor presses an open-mouthed kiss to Bucky's collar and gives him a last squeeze before moving off, and Bucky moves to the edge of the crowd to catch his breath. He's got a bit of a situation in his pants, so after adjusting himself he makes his way back to the table, grabbing a cocktail on the way. Then he immediately regrets ever leaving.

"Good god, I was gone for half an hour at the most," Bucky exclaims, and seven pairs of eyes guiltily snap towards him.

"In my defence, it's my party," Steve slurs.

"In _my_ defence, Dernier wanted to see how many tequila shots it took to get me drunk," Falsworth adds.

"...How many?" Bucky asks reluctantly.

"Twelve."

They end up staying well into the night, which is probably a bad idea. Bucky doesn't get drunk - he's too much of a worrier to do so while not having someone sober around - but he does have a few more drinks, and orders several rounds of water for the table, just to make sure the others don't get too drunk. Steve gets the drunkest, and by two in the morning he can barely even stand up straight.

"I should probably take this one home," Bucky sighs as Steve face-plants into his lap for the third time that hour. "There's no way he'll be able to get back by himself."

"You coming back after?" Gabe asks. He's not slurring his words yet, but Bucky knows it's only a matter of time.

"Nah, I should get some sleep too. 'Specially if I wanna make sure Sam eats tomorrow."

"Love you too, man," Sam mumbles from where he's slumped against Dum Dum. "I'll probably be home in about an hour."

"Come on, Stevie," Bucky coaxes. "Gotta get you home to Peg."

"Don't wanna," Steve grumbles, but he lets Bucky hoist him out of his seat and lead him out of the main area of the club. The limo driver got off a few hours ago, Bucky remembers, so he takes out his phone to call an Uber. Steve isn't making it easy; he's slumped against Bucky's side, one hand sliding under his shirt, and the way he's nuzzling at the sensitive skin on Bucky's neck is not helping things.

"The Uber'll be here in about ten minutes," Bucky says, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. Steve hums and rubs his face in Bucky's skin, making him shudder. "Steve."

"Y'said you'd tell me why you were avoiding me this week," Steve mumbles into Bucky's skin.

"Steve, you're drunk," Bucky points out.

"Just a bit," Steve agrees. "Why were you avoiding me?"

Bucky sighs and leans back against the wall; he may as well tell Steve now, when he's drunk and unlikely to remember it. "It's stupid."

"Don't care," Steve hums, and kisses Bucky's neck.

"It was because I'd asked you about Peggy. When you guys got together," Bucky finally says. "I thought maybe you'd started seeing her when we were still together."

Steve freezes, then lifts his head to look at Bucky. Bucky's shocked to see there were tears in his eyes. "I loved you too much to ever do that to you."

"I know," Bucky assures him, running a hand through Steve's hair. "But it's not easy to listen to you talk about her."

Steve watches him, his eyes clouded but still determined. Then he reaches out to cup Bucky's face, a soft look on his face.

"Y'know, I wish I never broke up with you," Steve slurs, and Bucky forgets how to breathe. "I was an idiot. Wish it was you I was marrying next week." Before Bucky can do anything to stop him, Steve leans down and presses his lips to Buckys.

Steve's lips are slightly chapped, but they're soft, and his body's so warm where it's pressed against Bucky, and Bucky's weak, and he can't help but melt into Steve's arms.

"Worst decision I ever made, leaving you," Steve mumbles against his lips, pressing Bucky up against the wall. "Didn't even know it until it was too late, and you'd moved outta state. An' then I saw ya with Sam, and y'look so happy, and it fuckin' kills me to see him touch you."

Bucky gasps, both from arousal and the fact that for some reason, Steve thinks he and Sam are dating, and Steve takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into Bucky's mouth. He tastes like tequila, and that fact manages to bring Bucky out of his haze.

"Steve, stop," he gasps. Steve pulls away and rests his head on Bucky's chest, taking in deep panting breaths that remind Bucky of his asthma days. Bucky rests his head back against the wall, trying to catch his breath. They've still got their arms wrapped around each other, and Bucky can't bring himself to let go. "You're getting _married_ next week." His voice cracks. 

"I wish it was to you," Steve mumbles. Bucky closes his eyes, tears pricking at his vision.

The car comes not much later, and he manages to bundle Steve up and into the backseat. Steve grabs at Bucky's sleeve just before he closes the door, though, and pulls him down into a kiss that Bucky's helpless to resist to. 

"I love you," Steve slurs, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Then he kisses Bucky once more, a soft, chaste thing, and leans back into the car. Bucky manages to close the door and watch the car drive off, then hail the nearest taxi and give the right address.

Once he's back at the hotel, Bucky barely makes it through the door before he's collapsing onto the couch, shaking with sobs that echo around the empty room.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam finds him a few hours later. By that time, Bucky had moved from the couch to curl up in his bed against the headboard and had stripped down to just his underwear and a large hoodie that must have belonged to an ex, because it's far too big. Sam's obviously sobered up, and Bucky can't help but be grateful.

"Oh, Bucky," he sighs, leaning against the door.

"I'm such a mess," Bucky mumbles into his knees. 

"I'm gonna make you some tea," Sam says. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

Bucky barely acknowledges him. He'd stopped crying about half an hour ago from sheer exhaustion, but there's a ball of self-hatred and confusion turning his stomach into knots that won't let him sleep. 

Sam returns a few minutes later, a mug in his hands that smells of lemon and honey, and Bucky gratefully takes it. The drink soothes the ache in his throat he didn't even know he had.

"I'm guessing something happened with Steve?" Sam asks gently, slipping into bed beside Bucky and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Bucky immediately leans into him, some of the tension in his body dissipating as Sam starts to rub his back.

"He told me he wished he never broke up with me," Bucky croaks out. "He said he loves me. That he wants me to be the one he's marrying next week."

"That son of a bitch," Sam growls out. "Did he touch you?"

"He kissed me," Bucky whispers. "Pressed me against a wall. And I let him. Fuck, Sam, I _wanted_ him to do it. I wished it could have lasted forever." Bucky wipes at his eyes, feeling almost angry at himself. "And the son of a bitch is getting married next week and the rehearsal ceremony is in four days."

"It wasn't your fault," Sam says gently. "Steve's the one who kissed you. He's the one who started it. You shouldn't feel guilty for another person's actions."

"What if he tells Peggy?" Bucky whispers. "She already hates me - I saw it, when we went to pick Steve up. She thinks more of the gum she scrapes off her shoe."

"Then she has no idea who you are," Sam says firmly. "Buck, you're the sweetest guy I know. Steve has no right to play with your feelings like this, and Peggy sure as hell has no right to treat you like shit."

Bucky chooses not to answer that, knowing that nothing Sam could say would change his mind. "I wanna go home, Sammy."

Sam hushes him, and Bucky feels a hand stroke through his hair. "I know, Buck. We'll talk about it in the morning, after you've gotten some sleep."

"Can you stay tonight?" Bucky asks meekly. "I don't... I don't wanna be alone right now."

"Yeah, of course I can," Sam coos, kissing Bucky's head. "How about after we sleep for a bit, we Facetime Riley? I can make you eggs while you talk to him."

"That sounds good," Bucky mumbles, feeling his eyelids start to droop. He reaches out blindly to put the now-empty cup on the bedside table, and then curls his arm around Sam's torso. 

They lie quietly for a few minutes, and Bucky's almost convinced that Sam is asleep. Maybe that's why he whispers, "How could he do this to me?"

Instead of staying silent, Sam kisses the top of his head and replies, "He cares for you too much."

\------

Four days later, Bucky's pretty much accepted the fact that he's still in love with Steve, there's a good chance that Steve feels something towards him too, and that Steve is definitely not going to leave his fiancée for Bucky. He comes to this conclusion after many sleepless nights, at least two bottles of hard liquor, and three cancelled plans to go back to DC before the wedding. 

So here he is, dressed in his second-best suit (the best one's for the wedding day), sitting in the pews of a glamorous church with Sam holding his hand, and pretending the tears in his eyes are ones of happiness. Peggy is up at the altar wearing a beautiful red dress that hugs her figure, and she's smiling. Steve's standing with his hands in hers, reciting his vows, and his eyes keep flicking over to Bucky. Bucky can't help but meet his gaze every time.

There are so many people. Bucky sees Sarah Rogers in her Sunday best in the front row, next to a prim-looking couple that must be Mr and Mrs Carter. Most of the people Bucky doesn't know, but the Commandoes are standing up behind Steve, and they keep glancing at Bucky with something all too knowing in their eyes.

The rehearsal ceremony seems to go on for an age, and Bucky almost runs out of the church when it ends. Sam's not far behind him, and Bucky throws himself into Sam's arms as soon as they're away from the crowd.

"Hey, it's okay," Sam soothes as Bucky takes gasping breaths, trying to get enough air into his lungs. "Hey, that was the hard part done. You did so well, Buck."

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face in Sam's neck, the lump in his throat constricting his airways. It takes a while, but eventually, Bucky pulls away, praying his eyes aren't as red as they feel.

"You know we can just go back to the hotel, right?" Sam asks gently. "Nobody will think any less of you."

"No," Bucky manages to get out, pushing stray hairs out of his face. "No, I need to do this."

"Why?" Sam presses. "Buck, you're torturing yourself. You don't owe Steve anything."

"But I owe myself."

Sam stays silent at that. Bucky sighs and loops his arm around Sam's shoulders. "C'mon. I don't wanna be later than we already are."

The dinner's being held in a very expensive-looking restaurant in upper Manhattan, and Bucky almost immediately feels like he's intruding as soon as he sets foot in it. Most of the guests have already seated themselves, but a harried-looking woman bustles over to them holding a clipboard.

"I'm so sorry gentlemen," she gushes, "but the restaurant's closed for a private function tonight."

"Yes, the Rogers-Carter wedding?" Sam says, giving the woman a charming smile. "We're guests. James Barnes and Sam Wilson?"

"Oh! My mistake," she says, giving a tinkling laugh. "I'm Angela Martinelli, the wedding planner." She checks the clipboard. "Mr Barnes, you're at table 13 next to Mrs Rogers, and Mr Wilson, you're at table 7 next to Mr Dugan."

"Our seats aren't together?" Bucky can't help but ask.

"I'm sorry, Mr Barnes, but as soon as Mrs Rogers heard you were coming, she insisted to be sat next to you," Angela says cheerfully. "There wasn't enough room at the table for Mr Wilson."

"Thank you," Sam says, giving her another smile. "Buck?"

"Right," Bucky sighs, taking Sam's hand and moving past Angela. 

"You sure you're gonna be okay?" Sam checks.

"I'll be fine," Bucky assures him. "I've missed Sarah. It'll be nice to catch up with her."

Sam gives his hand one last squeeze, and moves off to where Dum Dum's frantically waving at him. Bucky takes a deep breath, and sets off towards table 13.

Sarah Rogers doesn't look like she's aged a day in the past ten years. Sure, her hair's streaked through with a little more grey, and there are more wrinkles around her eyes, but she still stands when she sees Bucky and wraps her thin arms around his torso in an almost crushing hug.

"Bucky!" she cries happily, and Bucky relaxes at the sound of her voice and strong accent. "Oh, sweetheart, it's so good to see you!"

"You too, Sarah," Bucky says, trying not to melt into the hug. Sarah's at least a foot shorter than him, and he doesn't want to crush her - he's a lot bigger than he was the last time they saw each other. She's wearing a floral printed dress, and her cornsilk hair hangs loosely around her shoulders, and she's wearing the same rose perfume that Bucky remembers. It takes everything he has not to start crying.

"Look at how big you are!" Sarah crows, bustling him into his seat and flittering her hands over his shoulders. "And your hair! It's so much longer than it used to be!"

Bucky lets her fuss, feeling his face go red. He should have expected this, but he'd been so preoccupied with the wedding that it had completely slipped his mind.

"How have you been, darling?" Sarah asks, sitting down and taking Bucky's metal hand in her own. "Catch me up on everything."

"I joined the army," Bucky admits. "Just after... After everything that happened. I was in there for a while."

"Is that why you're wearing a prosthetic?" Sarah asks gently, tapping her nails on his hand. 

"It goes up to the shoulder. I joined an experimental prosthetics program run by Stark Industries." Bucky shrugs a shoulder. "It doesn't bother me much. The kids love it."

"You have kids?" Sarah asks, immediately perking up.

"Oh god no, not me," Bucky says quickly, feeling his cheeks heat up. "No, I'm a special ed teacher. At an elementary school back in DC."

"And what about that hunky man who you came in with and keeps looking over at us?" Sarah says playfully. "Boyfriend?"

Bucky can't help but laugh. "Everyone seems to think that, but no. Sam's my best friend. He was the pararescue who saved me."

"And you're _sure_ there's nothing between you?" Sarah's eyes are sparkling, and Bucky laughs again.

"God, no. He's married. His husband, Riley, was his partner in the Air Force. They left after Riley got injured - he's a paraplegic." Bucky glances over at Sam's table, where Sam is watching him worriedly and gives him a thumbs up. "Sam just gets worried," he explains, turning back to Sarah. "He's a little overprotective. It's why he's here with me in the first place."

Sarah lets out a sympathetic sound and pats Bucky's hand. "Oh honey, it must be so hard for you to be here."

"It's been ten years," Bucky protests, but even to his own ears, it sounds weak. "Steve and I weren't meant to last. It's why he broke up with me. Peggy's much better for him."

"Now Bucky, you and I both know that's not true," Sarah sighs. Bucky swallows heavily, and takes a large sip from the glass of red wine in front of him. It's bitter and burns on the way down.

The dinner is served not long after. It's some ridiculously flamboyant French dish that Bucky can't even pronounce, and Sarah spends the first five minutes after getting her food furiously whispering to Bucky about how it cost $300 dollars for a single dish that didn't even taste good and had the nutrient intake of a single cashew. Bucky tries very hard to not burst out laughing, and instead silently shakes with laughter and gains several dirty looks from the people around them.

The meal, in all honesty, was exactly as Sarah had described it, and Bucky almost immediately wrinkles his nose when he tastes it and makes a note to get burgers with Sam on the way back to the hotel. As the meal progresses, Sarah slowly goes through several glasses of wine, and Bucky really shouldn't have been surprised because Sarah always drank her body weight in alcohol at celebrations. 

"You know," Sarah says during her fifth glass, "I never much understood why Steve's stayed with Peggy for so long."

"What do you mean?" Bucky asks against his better judgement.

"Don't get me wrong, she's a lovely girl," Sarah says, wiping her mouth. "Quite beautiful, smart, career-oriented. But her and my Steven - I've never seen it." She leans towards Bucky conspiringly. "Peggy's an ambitious woman. And she's not particularly affectionate. And our Stevie, he loves with his whole being. Peggy has neither the time nor patience for that, and there is no way for her to accommodate that love." 

Sarah sips at her wine, giving Bucky an all-too-knowing look. "You were perfect for Steve, James. He just didn't know until it was too late."

When everyone's plates were cleared, Mr Carter stands up and starts tapping his glass with his spoon. He's a large man with broad shoulders, in his mid-60s with a neatly trimmed moustache and dark hair streaked through with grey. 

"He's a stuck-up prick," Sarah whispers in Bucky's ear. "Thinks himself above those of us without much money."

"Thank you, everyone, for being here today," Mr Carter says, his deep voice reverberating around the room. "It is so lovely to see so many of you care enough about my daughter and future son-in-law to be here. Now, I know that the speeches are to be done at the actual reception, but I cannot help but say a few words today." Mr Carter's eyes scan the room - they're cold and dark, like a shark's, and Bucky shivers as those eyes catch sight of him and narrow. 

"My daughter Margaret met Steven when they worked together in 2009," Mr Carter continues. "They immediately felt a connection, but nothing was done about it as Margaret was due to move back home to England and Steven was... otherwise occupied." 

Mr Carter smirked at that, and Bucky felt bile rise in his throat. Sarah was muttering mutinously in Gaelic beside him, and Bucky put a hand on her arm to make sure she didn't jump out of her seat and throttle Mr Carter.

"But they did meet again, four years ago at a work function. And, as most of you know, Steven proposed at the end of last year."

Bucky stiffens up, and he sees Sarah glance at him worriedly from the corner of his eye. Steve never told him that he was the one to propose. Bucky had always assumed it had been Peggy. 

"He kept the ring he was going to give to you," Sarah whispers in his ear, and Bucky squeezes her hand tightly. "It was far too big for Peggy. They had to have it resized."

"Does she know that it was meant for me?" Bucky asks, his voice embarrassingly frail.

Sarah squeezes his hand. "No."

Mr Carter keeps talking, but Bucky can barely hear it. Steve was going to propose to him. But instead, he left.

"Why did he leave me, then?" Bucky whispers shakily. "If he wanted to marry me, why did he leave?"

Sarah sighs. "I don't know, sweetheart. I don't know."

As soon as Mr Carter sits back down Bucky's out of his chair, saying goodbye to Sarah and walking across the restaurant to where Sam's sitting. Sam sees him coming immediately, and excuses himself from the conversation to stand up and lead Bucky to a more secluded corner. Bucky can't help but glance over his shoulder, and he sees Steve watching them from his spot next to his future wife. 

"How're you going?" Sam asks gently.

"Steve was going to propose to me," Bucky says. His voice sounds far away to his own ears. "But instead he left me. And he gave the ring to Peggy Carter."

"Do you wanna leave?" Sam asks. "Cause if you do, I can just grab my coat and we'll be gone. I'm starving anyway - we can grab burgers on our way back."

"No, it's okay," Bucky says, shaking his head a little to clear it. "I think I just need some fresh air. I'll come back in a few minutes."

"If you change your mind, text me," Sam says, and brings him in for a hug. "And if you change your mind about staying for the wedding, we'll be gone by morning."

"Thanks, Sammy," Bucky whispers. Sam squeezes him extra tight before letting go.

"I'm serious, Buck. As soon as you wanna leave, we're gone." He smiles, and makes his way back over to his table. 

Bucky turns around and heads for the door, breathing deeply as soon as the crisp spring air hits his face. The restaurant seems so stuffy compared to out here, Bucky marvels, even though the air's full of pollution and car fumes and he can't even see the stars through all the light pollution. He leans against the side of the building, taking deep, even breaths. It's so easy to let his mind go blank, to let go of all the hurt and anger he's been feeling for the past couple of weeks, and just _be_. 

He used to do this when he was in Afghanistan. The desert was beautiful at night, and Bucky could just lie on the sand and watch the stars for hours on end. It was the only thing he missed about the place.

"Buck?"

Bucky turns his head to the side, and sees Steve standing a few feet away. He sighs and turns back to the sky. 

"What do you want, Steve?"

"I'm here to apologize."

Bucky closes his eyes, counts to ten, and turns to face Steve. "Look, it's okay. I just wanna be left alone right now, so..." He trails off.

Instead of leaving, Steve clenches his jaw stubbornly. Bucky absently thinks that he should have seen this coming. "Please, Buck. Just let me explain."

Seeing that the quickest and most painless route would just be to let Steve talk, Bucky waves a hand for him to continue.

"I'm sorry for what happened at the party," Steve says quietly. "I shouldn't have told you those things. I shouldn't have kissed you, either. You're in a healthy, great relationship with a great guy and I shouldn't get in the way of that."

Bucky looks up incredulously from where he was studying the footpath. "What?"

"You and Sam," Steve says, a frown on his face. "I'm not going to get in the way of your relationship."

"Steve, Sam and I _aren't_ in a relationship," Bucky says. "And why are you sorry about that? _You're_ the one who's gonna be married by the end of the week!"

Steve's blinking at him, completely nonplussed, but then he smiles that smile that makes Bucky weak in the knees even after twenty years of seeing it. "You're not dating Sam?"

"That's not the point!" Bucky says, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "You have Peggy now, Steve! You broke up with me ten years ago and didn't get in contact the whole time - and you're getting married!"

"Buck, the marriage is a mistake."

Bucky falters. "What?"

Steve's face is pale, but determined. "I don't wanna marry Peggy."

"But... But you proposed to her," Bucky says faintly. "You've planned the wedding."

"I proposed to her because it was the easiest thing to do," Steve sighs. "And she'd been dropping hints for over a year. I know she'd seen the ring, so I just... gave it to her.

"She wants me to move to London with her after the honeymoon. She's got another job offer there, something that'll boost her career. And her parents paid for the whole wedding so honestly, I had no say in anything, and Pegs has been so excited. I... I didn't want to break her heart."

Steve takes a couple of steps forward and hesitantly cups Bucky's face in his hands. "I never wanted to break up with you, Bucky. It was the worst goddamned mistake of my life. I bought the ring, and I was gonna give it to you, but I... I freaked out. I realised you were too good for me. That you deserved someone better. So I left. And when I realised how much I'd fucked up... you were gone. I searched, but I could never find you.

"But you're here with me _now_." One of Steve's hands lifts from Bucky's face to stroke through his hair. His expression is so full of love, so full of hope, and Bucky can only stand there in shock, with tears blurring his vision. "We could run away together. I'll cancel the wedding. We can be gone by the morning."

Bucky's tears start to fall, and Steve's hands softly wipe them away. Bucky leans forward, pressing his forehead against Steve's as he starts to sob, holding on to the collar of Steve's shirt for dear life.

"This is so _unfair_ ," Bucky whispers. "Steve, you _know_ we can't do that. You _know_ it."

"Why not?" Steve challenges. "Why can't we go? I know you want to, Buck, so do I. We can get out now and be together."

"I have a _life_ ," Bucky stresses, but he tightens his grip on Steve's shirt. "I have a job, I have friends, I have responsibilities... And I know you don't like to admit it, but you do, too. I can't drop everything for you, Stevie, not again. You can't expect me to leave my whole life behind after you broke my heart and stayed away for an entire decade."

"Buck..." Steve whispers, and Bucky can't help but rise onto his toes and press their lips together. The kiss is salty from their tears, and Steve holds him far too tight, but it's still agony to pull away.

"You already broke my heart once, Steve," Bucky whispers. "Please don't do it again."

Then he steps away, hails the first taxi he sees, and leaves Steve on the sidewalk next to the restaurant with tears on his face.

\------

When Sam comes home that night, Bucky's sitting on his bed with his bag packed. Sam takes one look at him and calls Riley to tell him that they're coming home early. They're gone by sunrise.

An hour into the drive, an email is sent out cancelling the wedding. Bucky reads it over and over until the words blur into the page and are cemented in his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

_Two months later_

Summer in DC was always far too hot, and far too humid. Bucky's sweating through his shirt already, and it's barely ten in the morning.

"Riles, I told you, I'm really not feeling it today," he says. From the other side of the line, he hears Riley sigh.

"Well, Sam's at work. On a _Saturday_. I'm bored, and I wanna get out of this house. And I can't go by myself because everywhere in this damned city is build for those of y'all who can move your legs."

"I had a really hard night last night," Bucky tries again. And it's true - he did. Tony, in all his misplaced love, had set up a date to try and get Bucky feeling better; because Tony thinks that sex is the best thing to make a person feel better. Bucky should not have gone. The guy was a complete asshole who belittled Bucky about every little thing, told him he was only good for sex, then left as soon as he saw Bucky had a prosthetic. It hadn't been the best for his self-esteem.

"All the more reason to get out," Riley shoots back. "I know you, man - you mope and make yourself feel worse. Please come out? We can get ice-cream."

"...Caramel chocolate?" Bucky finds himself asking. He can almost hear Riley's smugness through the phone. 

Ten minutes later, Bucky's walking down the street with Riley wheeling along next to him and silently hating everything.

"It is a bit hot outside, isn't it?" Riley says cheerfully.

"It is ninety-five degrees," Bucky grumbles. "And it's so goddamned humid I feel like I'm in a sauna. Fuck this place."

"You'd prefer New York?" Riley shoots back. "With its rotting garbage smell?"

"I guess not. But this still sucks. I should move to Alaska."

"You and I both know you're terrible in cold weather."

They bicker the whole way to the ice-cream shop, only pausing briefly to order before going right back into it. Bucky has to hold both their ice-creams because Riley needs both hands to steer, and they find a nice spot in the East Potomac Park where there aren't many people. Bucky sits on a bench and Riley parks his chair next to the bench and they watch a young mother try and stop her children from jumping into the pond.

"Sam and I haven't seen you in a while," Riley says after they've finished their ice-creams.

"I know," Bucky mumbles. "I'm sorry, I just..."

"Yeah."

They're quiet for a few minutes.

"You know you can talk to us about anything, right?" Riley says gently. "I know you're still getting over the whole Steve thing, but if you ever need anything..."

Bucky nods. After a pause, he asks meekly, "Can I... stay with you guys for a couple of days? I don't think I wanna be alone."

"You wanna help me cook tonight?" Riley asks. "We can make that stew you like. I know it's not the weather for it, but..."

"Thanks," Bucky mumbles. "That'd be nice."

Since it's the school holidays and the kids are all at home, Bucky has nothing to do until school went back in September. It was pretty much the worst possible timing, so Bucky spends his days volunteering at the homeless shelter down the road and hanging out with Riley. The date Tony set him up on was, unfortunately, not the only one he was subjected to. One of the guys even seemed nice, but Bucky could barely look at him without seeing Steve.

One day in mid-July Bucky's sitting at his kitchen table going over the syllabus for the next school year and simultaneously cooking a cake for Riley's book club when there's a knock on his door. 

Frowning, Bucky stands up and makes his way over to the door. It couldn't be Sam - he's at work, and Riley isn't meant to be coming by until three. It could be Mrs Flannagan, or another one of his neighbours, coming to ask for some sugar or inviting him over for a cup of tea. It could even be Tony, with a new idea for an upgrade for his arm. Of all the people he was expecting on his doorstep, he never would have thought it was Steve.

But it _was_. Standing in front of his apartment door, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched like he's ready to get thrown out. He's looking up from under his eyelashes nervously, shuffling his feet and looking both determined and terrified.

"Steve," Bucky says dumbly. 

"Hey, Buck," Steve says, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"You're here."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, then pauses. "Can I come in?"

Bucky holds the door open for him silently, still trying to wrap his head around the face that _Steve's in his apartment_.

"You want a drink?" he finds himself saying, moving into the kitchen.

"Uh, just a glass of water."

Bucky grabs two glasses and fills them with water, and brings them over to the couch. He motions for Steve to sit down as he places the waters on the coffee table, and Steve hesitantly lowers himself onto one end of the couch. Bucky sits down on the other side, his back to the armrest and his legs drawn up to his chest.

"I, uh, saw you cancelled the wedding," Bucky says after a pause. "How'd that go?"

"I told Peggy first," Steve admits. "She asked if it was because of you."

"It wasn't, was it?" Bucky has to ask. "You didn't leave her just for me, right?" 

"I left her because I didn't see myself spending the rest of my life with her. You just... gave me the courage to do it." Steve takes a deep breath. "She was pretty upset. And Mr Carter was - god, he was _furious_ \- talking about how much this wedding meant to the family, how much money they'd spent on it... It's why I didn't come sooner. That, and I didn't actually know where you lived."

"So how'd you find me?" Bucky asks, unable to stop the shaking in his voice.

"Angie, the wedding planner. She's Peggy's friend, but I guess she felt sorry for me. She sent me your address." Steve shifts a bit closer on the couch, and Bucky can't help but move closer too, letting Steve take his hands. 

"If you don't want me here," Steve says carefully, "I'll go. I won't bother you anymore. If you just wanna be friends again, we'll just be friends."

"You and I both know we could never be just friends," Bucky murmurs, and squeezes Steve's hand. Steve looks up from their hands to meet Bucky's eyes, barely-concealed hope shining from his face. "But we also know we can't go back to what we used to be."

"Bucky..." Steve gently pulls Bucky into his arms, and Bucky can't help but melt against him, resting his head on Steve's chest with a soft sigh. "I love you. And I kick myself every day for leaving you, but I want to give us a second chance. And I get it if you don't want that, if you want nothing to do with me, but I had to ask. I had to see if you would take me back."

"I'm not the same person I used to be," Bucky whispers. Steve kisses the top of his head.

"I don't care."

Bucky looks up to find Steve's face inches from his own. "You're sure? About me?"

"I've always known I was gonna spend the rest of my life with you, sweetheart," Steve murmurs, holding Bucky's face in his hand. His thumb brushes the soft skin just under Bucky's eye. "End of the line, pal, remember? I could never give up on you."

Steve barely gets the end of his sentence out before Bucky's lunging up to slam their lips together, his hands sliding up from Steve's chest to cup his face. Steve's grip tightens around him, and before he knows it Bucky's being hoisted up to sit fully on Steve's lap, a hand curled in his hair stopping him from moving away. He gladly surrenders to it, Steve's tongue burning a trail across his lips and into his mouth and Steve's hands gripping him tightly but _so sweetly_. 

When they break apart Bucky's half-hard and gasping for breath, and Steve doesn't look much better, with his flushed cheeks and blown-out eyes.

"Stay with me," Bucky gasps out. "Please."

Steve's eyes start looking a little watery, but honestly, Bucky's in no place to judge - he can already feel the lump in his throat. "Oh sweetheart, there's nothing that'll keep me away from you again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> The Wythe Hotel is an actual hotel that I found when I googled fancy hotels in Brooklyn.


End file.
